Man is a composite

If one  eats in order to live, and then lives in order to eat— he testifies that all that exists is his body and its nutrition, nothing more.

This worldview was taken to its pinnacle by the ancient Greeks.  They valued the human body for its form, its strength, its aesthetic beauty:  for itself.  The Olympics were their paean to this view, athletic prowess performed naked.  Bread with bread.   And yet, we Western moderns look longingly to the “Greco-Roman” ideal!

I was inspired to begin my spiritual journey, many years ago, when I accepted the bedrock intuition that what I experienced as “ beauty” had its roots in something deeper than endorphins in my frontal cortex.  When I thrilled at a majestic mountain view, I was connecting the physical world  with something else, with its spiritual  underpinnings.  As mentioned in a previous post, the earth is only physical, but at those moments my spirit connected with the spirit animating all of Creation, with G-d.  This part of me yearns to take the physical and use it for the spirit.  When I sit awestruck at a Pacific sunset at the beach in Venice, I’m doing just that. 

In perhaps the most mundane, yet sublime expression of the perception of spirit within the physical, Rabbi Moshe Isserles, the RM’A, wrote in the 16^th century of the miracles in the act of removal of waste from the body.  He comments on the text of the blessing ordained by the Sages of the Talmud following going to the bathroom, “Blessed are You, who Created Man with wisdom, by endowing him with myriad orifices and hollow tubes, so that if any opening were closed, or any of these closures were opened, man could not exist for an instant.  Blessed are You, the Healer of all Flesh, Who Does wonders.”

For He performs wonders in that he protects the spirit of Man within his body and unites a spiritual entity with a physical one .

The  choice mentioned at the outset of this Weblog  is a historic one, of the Greeks or the Sages of old:   To be blind to the spirit, emphasizing only the body, or to elevate the body with spiritual action. 

Tomorrow, let’s take this a bit deeper, into the Divine commandment of fringes, tzitzis, the lights of Channuka, and the nature of clocks.

Spirituality is no contradiction to responsibility and organization

A melava malka story:  (ht: Major Impact, by Rabbi Dovid Kaplan, Targum Press, p.88)
The Rebbe of Belz was known to daven (pray) quickly.  A man once approached him and asked that he daven for a very sick relative.  The Rebbe davened Shmoneh Esrei (the Amidah, the Silent Prayer which is the focus of the services in synagogue) that day twenty minutes longer than his usual Shemoneh Esrei.  For the next two years (!) his daily schedule was off by exactly twenty minutes.
*  COMMENT:  Whenever something is important, people relate to it with responsibility and organization.  Reb Shalom of Belz regarded avodas Hashem (his prayers, especially for others, ED.) as something important.

I love this story.  Its not for me at my level of service.  But for the Rebbe, its instructive to see how he took the responsibility to apply extra effort spiritually, to focus his concern for another human being by praying for his recovery at length.  Yet, this extra effort was a part of his personal efforts for himself, which were never abondoned in lieu of his concern for another.  Hence, his daily schedule, which must of consisted of his own personal spiritual efforts, was off time, but never ignored. 

He cared about his own growth, but with responsibility and organization, he was able to fit other into it. 

I can't match that level of effort.  But I can try to implement the idea into my own life.  Like take 2 extra minutes to thank G-d with all my heart (developing an attitude of Gratitude) and really think of others needs in my own prayer (connecting with someone outside of myself, lessening my egoism.)

Responsibility and organization, for 1 minute.  I can try that.
And I will, bli neder, this week.  Let you know how it goes.

Pikudei: Dig Deeply!

Pikudei

Dig deeply . . .

                As we finish the book of Shemos and conclude our review of the construction of the Mishkan, the portable “Tent of Meeting” and all of the concomitant utensils and clothing for its functioning, it might be worthwhile to look again at that telling verse in last week’s sedra about the Princes’ donation of the precious stones.  We can take away a lesson which will serve us well as we complete one book, Shemos, with the words:  “Chazak, chazak, v’nischzek!  Be strong!”:    This lesson will help us not only at this moment, but throughout our lives as we grow from one level to the next.

“And the Princes brought the Avnei Shoham and the Avnei Miluim for the apron and the breastplate.” (Shemos 35: 27)

Rashi comments on this verse, citing Rabbi Nosson ,  ‘Why did the Princes think to donate their gifts at the beginning of the dedication of the Mishkan, but here, at the building of the Mishkan, they offered their gifts last?  They thought, “ Let the community donate what they will, and we’ll make up what’s missing!”  When it turned out that the community donated everything, all the Princes could do was to donate the Stones—the Avnei Shoham and the Avnei Miluim.  Therefore, the next time they had the chance, at the dedication, they donated first.  Since they were initially lacking in alacrity, a letter from their name was removed (the Hebrew word for Princes, “nesi’im”, is missing the yuds in our verse.  –Ed.)

                The words of the midrash are puzzling.  Didn’t the Princes make a wise judgement?  After all, they were prepared  to fulfill whatever was missing in the communal donation for the Sanctuary, no matter how large an amount.  Even if an enormous effort would be required, they were committed to do the job, to make up whatever the Bnei Yisrael lacked, in order to insure that there would be nothing preventing the establishment of the new  Temple service.  If so, why were they punished with the loss of a letter from their name?  Even moreso—they did indeed bring a valuable donation, the precious stones, which testify to their commitment.  How then, are we to understand their lack, and subsequent “punishment” by the defective writing of their name?

                We see from here a profound insight into human motivation.  It is possible that an action may be contemplated, with the best of intention.  And indeed, the action is carried out, seemingly with righteousness and character.  And yet, if we dig deep into the psyche of the person, we may find that the true motivation was rooted in selfishness, in character flaw, and not in pristine dedication.  The Torah tells us, by removing the 2 yuds from their name, that the Prince’s apparent good intentions were really founded in a lack of zeal and commitment.  They may not even have been conscious of this flaw.  But, once shown the error of their ways—they took immediate steps to change, and dedication first,  the next time they had the opportunity. 

                The key to true spirituality is a fearless commitment to growth.

                To grow in tikkun ha-midos, to refine our character,  we need to really dig deeply!

NOTE:  This essay  is drawn from the work “Be’er M’chokek”, by the late Rosh HaYeshiva of Telshe, Rabbi Chaim Mordecai Katz, zt”l.,  edited by Rabbi Yakov Velvel Katz, and was translated and  adapted for publication by Rabbi Hollander.

Why should I be spiritual?

Why should I be spiritual?

Man is unique in Creation, the ancient Jewish oral tradition tells us,.  In all of the Universe, there are only 3 types of beings.   First, there are purely spiritual beings, such as angels.  Second, there are purely physical entities—we call them animals, or nature, like rocks and the ocean.  Some of these are alive, endowed with the gift of life.  But, like the rest, they are all purely physical.  (No, Fido does NOT have a soul, according to the Sages.)

Finally, there is Man.  As described in Ibn Pakuda’s classic exposition of this tradition, Derech Hashem, The Way of the G-d, man is the only creature who is a combination of these 2 aspects, the physical and the spiritual.  The Bible itself says, “And G-d blew the breath of life into Adam.”  Man is a composite of the dust of the universe, and the breath, or better, the spirit, of G-d.  Thus, I only have 2 choices:   will I live for my physical aspect, or--- will I be spiritual?

To live for my body  is to imitate the Babylonians of yore—

“hani bavloi tipshoi, d’ achlin nehama b’nehama, Those foolish Babylonians, who eat bread, as a side-dish to bread! 

The Rabbis weren’t merely commenting on their non-Jewish neighbors’ choice of menu.  They saw in their manner of eating a reflection of their entire approach to life.  If one  eats in order to live, and then lives in order to eat— he testifies that all that exists is his body and its nutrition, nothing more.

This worldview was taken to its pinnacle by the ancient Greeks.  They valued the human body for its form, its strength, its aesthetic beauty:  for itself.  The Olympics were their paean to this view, athletic prowess performed naked.  Bread with bread, so banal!  And yet, we Western moderns look longingly to the “Greco-Roman” ideal!

So—what else should I live for?  My spirit, of course.